


The Language of Love

by AHappyPup, onceuponanevilangel



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, F/F, Podfic Welcome, peggy swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 15:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4925212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHappyPup/pseuds/AHappyPup, https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponanevilangel/pseuds/onceuponanevilangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy Carter is a woman of many languages from the harshest of Russian to the most elegant of French. They all reveal explain how she's feeling, even if Angie can't understand a bit. She understands what's most important: their love for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Language of Love

**Author's Note:**

> So this story features multiple languages. All translations are written in the end notes. Please enjoy!

Angie Martinelli had always heard that body language spoke louder than anything; and as a girl, she believed that to be true for everyone. But then again that was before she met Peggy Carter. Sure she expressed body language like everyone else, but her spoken words exposed much more than the way she might cross her arms or conceal herself.

Like the other night when she had come home soaked the bone after a long day of work. As Peggy approached the kitchen, she was pathetically stifling sneezes into a drenched handkerchief. Any normal person would have just assumed it to be the weather making her feel so poorly, but Angie didn’t really think of herself as normal.

After the third sneeze Peggy murmured, “ _дерьмо́_ ,” before sneezing yet again.

Angie peeked up from her cutting board to get a good look at Peggy, trying to conceal her worry. “You alright there, English?” Angie knew that she wasn’t, but Angie figured she’d ask anyway. Peggy looked quite chilled and feverish, what with the way she was shaking and her cheeks were flushed.

“Fine,” Peggy said a little too sharply. Her voice sounded off; lower than normal and strained like it hurt her to talk. She coughed into her elbow, and Angie heard a muffled “ _Черт_.”

Angie wasn’t even sure what the word meant, but it sounded Russian and that was all the confirmation she needed. She set down the knife she was holding and wiped her hands on her skirt before walking up to Peggy and pressing the back of her hand against Peggy’s forehead.

“What are you--”

“Shush,” Angie said. Peggy’s forehead felt warmer than normal; not worryingly so, but enough that Angie nodded. “That’s what I thought. Bed.”

“Darling, I’m fine,” Peggy mumbled backing away from Angie. “And I certainly don’t need to go-” Another sneeze cut her off.

Angie frowned and rubbed circles into the small of Peggy’s back. “You were saying? Go on and get changed. We can eat in bed and then all the cuddles you can imagine.”

Peggy sighed, rubbing her runny nose against her sleeve. “I’m suppose some rest would be nice.”

“And you can’t get any standing here in the kitchen with me.”

“Point taken.” Peggy started to shuffle out of the kitchen, but not without mumbling something unintelligible under her breath.

“What was that?” Angie asked.

“Nothing,” Peggy said.

“No, what did you say?”

“I said _ебать его_ ,” A light blush crept up her cheeks, and Angie could tell it had nothing to do with the fever.

“Russian?” Angie asked.

“It is actually. How did you know that?”

“You have a tic, English.” And with a the turn of her heel, Angie headed back to the kitchen, ready to finish up their supper. “You better be in bed by the time I get up there.”

“A tic? I do-” A harsh, phlegmy cough cut her off.

“Bed.”

It as something Angie learned early on about Peggy. The language--or more accurately languages--she used made it easy to detect when to send her up to nonnegotiable  bedrest or to give her a mug of tea and let her go about her day, albeit miserable with allergies.

Like the one time Angie tried to surprise Peggy on Valentine’s Day. She had picked out the most gorgeous bouquet of flowers in all of New York City, she was certain. Not having to pay rent sure had its perks when it came to picking out presents.

And Peggy certainly deserved them after the weekend she had had. Between the SSR running her into the ground with extra shifts and Howard needing this and that to work on their “secret project”, she was worn out. The flowers would definitely cheer her up.

Much to her dismay, Peggy was napping when Angie arrived home, though it wasn’t as if she didn’t need the rest. So rather than wake her, Angie settled for covering Peggy up with a blanket and leaving the the flowers in plain sight for when she woke up. Angie didn’t really think anything of it until about an hour later.

There was a short series of high-pitched sounds, one after another and then the very distinct sound of “ _Das ist voll nervig!_ ” before the sound started again.

“Peggy?” Angie called out, somewhat certain that it was her roommate. It sounded like Peggy’s voice, but since when did Peggy speak German?

Angie made her way slowly up the stairs and pushed the bedroom door open enough to see inside. Peggy was sitting on the edge of the bed, glaring at the flowers as she pressed her handkerchief to her nose.

“Hello, darling,” Peggy said, her voice muffled with both congestion and the cloth against her mouth. A sneeze escaped her and then, “ _Verdammet_!”

Angie eyed her carefully. Peggy didn’t look ill, but given the way she had been overworking herself recently, she wouldn’t be surprised. “Are you alright?”

Peggy sniffled slightly, trying to downplay how bad she was feeling. “Yes, yes,” she coughed weakly. “While I appreciate the symbolism, darling, I’m actually allergic to most flowers.”

“Oh gosh, Peg, I’m sorry!” Angie hurried over to the nightstand to grab the bouquet. Before Peggy could say anything, Angie had already raced back downstairs and tossed the flowers into the garbage can by the back door. She was back a few moments later with a glass of water in her hand.

“Here,” Angie said, holding out the glass. Peggy smiled gratefully and took it. “I didn’t even think about asking.”

“It’s not your fault,” Peggy said after a few sips of water. “It was quite a surprise, though.”

Angie slapped Peggy’s shoulder lightly, but she couldn’t hide her smile. She sat down on the bed and started rubbing soft circles between Peggy’s shoulder blades. “I do have to ask, though. Were you speaking German?”

Peggy moaned slightly at Angie’s relaxing touch. Her throat still ached a bit and her nose congested, but this was comforting to say the least. “Mhm,” she hummed, resting her head on Angie’s shoulder. “Learned it in the war. Had to yell at the Nazis somehow.”

Angie chuckled. Of course Peggy would learn just so that she could yell at Nazis. “You must have done a good job. War ended after all. And I bet seventy-five percent of the reason was because of your yelling.” That got a laugh out of Peggy and then a yawn. Obviously she was still tired from the weekend. “Do you wanna go back to sleep?”

Peggy nodded, before wrapping her own arm around Angie. “Mhm... Stay with me, _liebling_?”

“If it means you’ll actually get some sleep, of course, English.”

Even if it wasn’t related to her health, she could still tell things from the way Peggy spoke. Angie wasn’t quite sure when exactly they had fallen asleep, but they must have at some point since she woke up half-on and half-off the bed, still fully clothed, and with her arms wrapped around a snoring Peggy.

The long patches of early evening sunlight that had been showing through the curtain had morphed into puddles off moonlight and Angie sat up quickly as she tried to get her bearings.

The motion jarred Peggy enough to wake her up and she blinked slowly for a moment. “What time is it?” she asked.

Angie glanced at the clock on the dresser, straining a little to see the numbers in the dim light. “Almost nine o’clock.”

“ _Merde_!” Peggy shot bolt upright. “I was supposed to meet Howard at seven. _Fais chier_!”

Merde? That sounded Italian, but the last part definitely wasn’t.. “Calm down, English, it’s alright. You needed the rest.”

Peggy huffed and hurried out of the bed. ‘I needed to finish up this _putain paperasse_!”

Angie grabbed her arm and sat her back down. “It’s Valentine's Day, English. Of all the things Howard Stark is doing today- and believe me I don’t want to think about that anymore than possible- worrying over your meeting is not one of them.”

“It’s important,” Peggy insisted.

“Does it have anything to do with that super secret project that I’m not allowed to know anything about?” Angie asked.

Peggy rolled her eyes and pulled out of Angie’s grasp enough to grab her shoes from the corner where she had kicked them off earlier. “Yes, it does. And I doubt he’s even still there. He probably gave up an hour ago and went back to whatever...plans he had for the night.”

Angie shuddered.

“Ugh! _C’est des conneries_!” Peggy snapped to herself as she tried and failed to fasten the straps of her shoes.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Angie said wrapping her arms around Peggy. “Calm down. Give the office a call before you get too worked up.”

“I am not worked up,” Peggy huffed, trying to put her shoes on. “I have work to do, but I am not worked up.”

“Yeah, and I’m the president.” Angie sighed, trying to soothe Peggy again. “Call and if Howard is there by some grace of God tell him you’re rescheduling. You’re running yourself into the ground, English.”

Peggy glared. “I’m a grown woman, Angie. I can bloody well handle myself.”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t. But you’re also the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. So go call, come back to bed, and get some sleep.”

“I just slept for almost five hours and I can sleep more after I get the paperwork from Howard. I at least need to call him.”

Angie resisted the urge to point out that she had told Peggy to do just that a moment ago. After all, Peggy was still practically half-asleep and playing the ‘I-told-you-so’ card was probably not the best idea the the moment.

Before Angie could say anything else, Peggy kicked her shoes across the floor and moved to reach the phone on the vanity. She dialed and leaned against the wall as she waited, but Howard didn’t pick up.

“ _Branleur_ ,” Peggy snapped as she slammed the receiver back down and threw herself back down on the bed.

“No answer?” Angie smirked. Peggy shook her head, face rubbing against the mattress. “Hmm, well why don't change into something a little more comfortable, and then we can have our own plans, if you know what I mean.”

Peggy looked up at her with half opened eyes. “A candlelight dinner.”

Angie almost snorted. Peggy was so dense sometimes. “Sure, English. Dinner. and maybe we’ll dance afterwards.”

“ _Bonne idée_ ,” Peggy mumbled, not moving in the slightest. “No Sinatra though.”

Angie shook her head and the moved forward to give Peggy a kiss. “Alright, English. No Sinatra.”

And then there were sometimes Peggy was a bit louder about her feelings- even if Angie couldn’t tell what she was saying. Like the night Angie had been just resting and relaxing in the library and she heard a loud bang.

“ _Kurwa! Kurwa kurwa kurwa_!”

Angie wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but she was pretty sure it hurt, given the way she could hear Peggy trying to conceal groans. “Peg? You alright?”

“ _I uderzył mnie w nogę na pieprzonym stole_!”

Angie furrowed her brow. Not that she wasn’t used to Peggy’s bizarre language fluctuations, but she’d still like to know what was going on. “English, English!”

“I bashed my leg on the table,” Peggy grumbled.

Angie got up and made her way into the dining room to find Peggy sitting in a chair with her hand pressing against her thigh.

“Are you okay?” Angie asked. She knelt down on the floor and gently touched Peggy’s leg through her stockings. “Are you bleeding? Let me see.”

Peggy obliged and slowly moved her hand out of the way so Angie could get a good look. Peggy had apparently managed to catch her leg on the corner of the table and it had left a run in her stockings. There was no blood, but the skin was grazed and the surrounding area was already starting to bruise.

Angie winced in sympathy. “Oh, Pegs, can you walk? Actually no. Don’t walk yet. Let me get you some ice first.”

“I’m fine, Angie. It’s nothing, see?” Peggy tried to stand, but ultimately wobbled and wound up leaning on Angie. “Just need-”

“You don’t need to do anything but sit back down.” Angie rolled her eyes and helped her into a chair. “Do you want anything other than ice?”

Peggy sighed, knowing there was no way she’d get out of this. “No, no thank you.”

“Whatever you say.”

Peggy traced the growing bruise when she was left alone. Despite being so new, it was already getting that ugly purple coloring and hurt when she pressed down on it. When she was certain she could walk without falling on Angie, they were moving that table, They never used it any-

“Bloody hell!” Peggy wasn’t even sure how Angie had managed to get the ice so quickly and the shock of the cold against her warm skin was enough to practically make her jump of the chair. Or it would have been if she was in any position to jump at all. Instead, she settled for gritting her teeth and hissing out, “Bloody Nora, that’s cold.”

Angie bit her lip to keep from laughing. She was pretty sure that Peggy wouldn’t appreciate being laughed at in the best of circumstances and this was exactly the opposite.

“You okay there, English? I thought you were fine just a minute ago.”

“Very funny,” Peggy snapped. She adjusted the ice on her leg and winced again. It was going to hurt in the morning. “Ugh. Fuck this.”

Angie put her hand to her mouth in fake gasp. “Margaret Carter! That is not how a young lady speaks!” she teased in a near-perfect impression of Ms. Fry.

That made Peggy laugh. “I guess you haven’t been listening well enough,” she said eyeing Angie. “I have quite the dirty mouth.”

Angie smiled, leaning forward for a kiss. “How about I clean that up for you then?”

Peggy’s lips twitched and she tipped her head up so Angie could reach her easier. The kiss was soft and chaste, but Angie kept her head close to Peggy’s as she said. “If we’re being honest, though, I’ve noticed.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Peggy replied. There was a light blush coloring her cheeks, though, and she was looking at her thigh rather than Angie’s face.

“I mean, I have no idea what you’re saying, but a swear is a swear no matter the language, you know?”

Peggy chuckled. "It is indeed."

They sat there quietly for a moment, Angie stroking at Peggy's hair, while Angie was sure she heard Peggy practically purring. "Mmm, English, can I ask you something?"

Peggy's brow rose. "I suppose."

"How come you curse in so many different languages? I can barely keep my head wrapped around two, but yours seem to have a certain meaning behind it."

“What do you mean?” Peggy asked.

“I don’t know. It’s like you use different languages for different things and I’ve never seen anyone else do that before,” Angie said. “It might also be nice if I even knew half the languages you were using, but that’s beside the point. Why do you do that?”

Peggy shrugged. “Association maybe? I was in a lot of different places during the war and I picked up a lot of languages. Maybe I’m just remembering things that happened in those places.”

“Oh come on, English, give me a real answer.”

“I never even noticed that I even do that,” Peggy said.

“Okay, well then let’s start with the German. My brother used to know it and he taught me enough that I at least know what it sounds like. What happened in Germany?”

"Germany was miserable," Peggy confessed. "It was cold and despite the beautiful atmosphere, I felt horrible a majority of the time. Cats everywhere as well."

"See! That makes sense!"

"What does, darling?"

“When I brought home the flowers, you had a reaction like you would have in Germany. That must have triggered something and made you remember it.” Angie smiled proudly. “What about France? I’m pretty sure you were speaking French when you woke up.”

“To be honest, I can’t remember much of what happened in France. I was there toward the end of the war for a few weeks and I just remember I was exhausted the whole time.”

“And that would explain why you would use it when you were tired and confused after you woke up.”

"I suppose it does." There was a deep melancholy in her eyes. The last few weeks of the war had definitely been the most exhausting and heartbreaking in light of the the loss of Steve.

Angie rubbed Peggy's hand. "Russian?"

"Another miserable time. I was laid up in bed for weeks with pneumonia. We were all sick more often than not."

“Sounds awful,” Angie said. Her legs were beginning to cramp from kneeling so long and she finally dragged a second chair over. Once she was sitting more comfortably, her hand moved absently up to stroke Peggy’s hair.

“It was,” Peggy agreed.

“What about the last one?”

“The last what?”

“The last language,” Angie said. “When you hit your leg on the table. Geez, English, have you forgotten already?”

Peggy rolled her eyes and smiled. “That was Polish, actually. I remember that one. That’s where I took the bullet to my shoulder.”

Angie’s eyes widened. She knew Peggy had gotten shot, but learning more details made it more real and more frightening. “That must have hurt.” It was the most obvious thing, but she honestly couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t express how terrified she was by the idea of Peggy being in pain.

“It did, quite a bit,” Peggy murmured, letting Angie stroke her hair.

“I can only imagine.”

Peggy hummed in acknowledgement and shifted the ice pack on her leg. The scaped area had already bloomed into a shocking display of shades of blue and purple and green. Angie winced and grabbed the mostly-melted ice pack as Peggy handed it to her.

“You want some more ice?”

“No, I think I’ll be all right,” Peggy said. She pulled her skirt back down over her leg and moved to stand up. A wince crossed her face and she hissed out “ _Gówno_.” She sat back down and shot Angie a wry smile. “On second thought, darling, I might just take you up on that.”

“That’s what I thought,” Angie said. She stood up and went back to the kitchen to get a fresh ice pack. When she came back, she set the new one on Peggy’s leg and sat back down on her own chair. She watched Peggy wince and then relax, “Good?”

Peggy nodded, and patted the seat next to her. “Sit with me?”

Angie smiled before crossing over to her. “I’ll never say no to that.”

But even with Peggy basically explaining everything to Angie- something Angie never would have in a million years imagined happening- there was still another story that would unfold itself in weeks to come.

Fourth of July to be specific. Angie had been up early getting things ready for her family’s barbeque when she heard something new. She was just getting out of the shower when she heard a crash from the bedroom followed by Peggy’s voice.

“ _Mac soith!_ ”

“Peg? Is everything okay in there?” Angie called. When she didn’t hear a response, she wrapped a towel around herself and padded into the bedroom, dripping water as she went. She got into the bedroom to find Peggy sitting on the bed, staring at shattered picture frame on the floor in front of her.

Angie rushed over and sat down next to her. “Peggy, what happened? Are you okay?”

Peggy nodded, but Angie didn’t miss the way she swiped at her eyes as she knelt down to pick up the frame. “I just, um...I was getting dressed and I dropped a picture. It’s all right.”

Angie wrapped her into a one-armed hug. “You sure, English?” She wasn’t really expecting an answer, but there was still some hope.

“Just a bit sad, I suppose,” she murmured.

She set the frame on the nightstand next to her and Angie got her first look at the photo inside: a short, skinny man with light hair and a set of dog tags hanging around his neck.

"That your brother?" They didn't really look alike, but it would explain her sadness.

Peggy laughed a little, rubbing tears out of her eyes. "No, darling, that's not my brother. He was my..." her voice caught, searching for the right word, " my _céadsearc_."

There was a sorrow there that Angie couldn't quite explain, but could very easily understand. Peggy was in another language, another world even. He had to have meant something to her.

"He have a name?" Angie asked quietly, tightening her grasp.

"Steve," Peggy replied, voice barely above a whisper.

Angie looked back at the picture on the nightstand and this time she focused only on the face. It had looked a little familiar before, but once she heard the name, something clicked in her mind.

“That’s Captain America,” Angie said. “You knew Captain America?”

“You could say that,” Peggy replied. “He was assigned to my camp. I trained him before the serum and afterwards we...stayed close.”

“You want to talk?” Angie asked. Peggy was looked down at her hands and shook her head. “You want me to let you be alone?”

Peggy shook her head again.

“Then I’m here, honey,” Angie said. She squeezed Peggy’s shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to Peggy’s cheek. “Always.”

Peggy sighed and laid her head onto Angie’s shoulder. “Thank you. Is breá liom tú,” she murmured softly.

Time seemed to stand still in those moments. The only movement was that of the gentle breeze brushing past their curtains. A few more tears streaked Peggy’s face before Angie spoke again.

“What language is that? I’ve never heard you use it.”

‘Gaelic’ was just on the tip of her tongue. But grief had a funny way of controlling her thoughts and words. “Steve’s,” was all she could say, her voice hoarse from crying.

Angie simply nodded and rubbed little circles into Peggy’s back. She lapsed casually into Italian as she rested her head on Peggy’s shoulder. “ _Va bene, va bene. Sono qui. Sarò sempre qui._ ”

Peggy allowed herself to finally relax as her tears began to cease. Slowly, she turned her head to Angie and gave her a light kiss on the lips. “ _Ti amo_.”

“And I you, English. and I you.”

Peggy Carter may have been a woman of many languages; but when it came down to it, she spoke just one: love. A language Angie Martinelli was very happy to be fluent in.

 

**Author's Note:**

> дерьмо́ - shit  
> Черт-damn  
> ебать его-fuck it  
> Das ist voll nervig! - That is really annoying!  
> Verdammet- damn it!  
> Liebling- darling  
> merde-shit  
> fais chier-damn it  
> putain paperasse- fucking paperwork  
> c’est des conneries- this is bullshit  
> branleur-wanker  
> Bonne idée- good idea  
> Kurwa- Fuck!  
> I uderzył mnie w nogę na pieprzonym stole!- I hit my leg on the fucking table  
> gówno-shit  
> Mac soith-son of a bitch  
> Céadsearc – First love  
> Is breá liom tú- I love you  
> Va bene, va bene. Sono qui. Sarò sempre qui.- It’s okay, It’s okay. I’m here. I will always be here.  
> Ti amo- I love you.


End file.
